Moments
by the ticking clock
Summary: Sharing your soul with a dragon is a curious thing, and not without its peculiar moments.


**I have recently rediscovered my love for this series. **

**I know this is terrible: it was very hard to get back into the character's heads, and there isn't much of a plot here. But it kept demanding to be written, so here it is. For more coherent one shots, you can send me a prompt or check out my other story, All We Are **

Sometimes he dreams of the taste of blood and the searing heat of fire in his belly.

He dreams that they are flying over vast valleys and mountains, and rivers, the world a blur of blue below them. He feels the wind, smooth and cool and delicious against the strain of their wings. He roars, and the sound is like an avalanche and a scream and the gentlest kiss.

Saphira sometimes brings him back to himself when he has those dreams. She'll sweep into his mind and suddenly they'll be diving into a lake and the cold water will surround him and he will be very much human again, holding onto her back and spitting out water that is tinged with bile and mud.

Most of the time though, she lets the dream run its course. She observes quietly at the very edge of his consciousness, occasionally interjecting an image or sensation.

Once he dreamed they were hunting, together. They tucked their wings close to their ribcage to avoid the tree branches and glided silently through the forest. Their heartbeat is quick and throbbing, and the blood is hot against their tongue when they reach out and bite-

Eragon wakes up screaming.

_It's alright, _Saphira says, clear and gentle and steady. _It's alright, little one. _

Guards rush into their tent, but Saphira lifts her lip in a growl and they back away almost immediately, leaving the two of them alone.

_Sorry, _Eragon whispers, pressing clenched fists against his eyes and struggling to slow his pounding heart. _I don't know what happened. _

Saphira coughs a growling laugh and curled her tail more tightly around him, pulling him against her warm underbelly. _You share your mind with a dragon, Eragon. That's what happened. _

He laughs with her and pats her side. _It's a wonderful thing, isn't it?_

Her purrs fill the tent, and she gently tugs his mind back down into sleep.

* * *

><p>Arya thinks of life differently now.<p>

Firnen has sharpened her senses, but also her emotion. Rage comes to her far more often than it should, and she often tastes smoke and fire on her tongue before she speaks. Sometimes in a fight, she finds herself growling.

It's actually quite terrifying.

When she questions Eragon about it, he laughs and says that it is perfectly normal. He and Saphira finish each other's sentence's now, so she should not be surprised. She remembers Oromis and Glaedr often describing the pain of Oromis's attacks in unison, their bond was so deep.

She had always longed to experience that kind of closeness with another creature, but now that she has Firnen, she's afraid of herself.

He is so feral and ancient and primal, tempered down only by her morals and the strength of her people. He hunts savagely, leaps off of cliffs far to high for her to scale, and roars like he is the only creature in the forest and no one can ever hear him.

He brings out a side of her she did not even know existed.

Sometimes, when they are flying together, she will jump off his back and fall through the air with her arms spread wide, the screams tearing from her lips as the wind howls around him. He always catches her; swoops underneath her just in time, snarling and roaring. Occasionally he will scold her and tell her to be more careful.

Mostly though, she rests her cheek against his neck and relishes in the strange breathlessness of flying.

* * *

><p>Their minds are so closely linked Murtagh is not quite sure who he is anymore.<p>

At first it was a necessary means of survival. They'd clung to each other under the king's reign because it was the only way to stay sane. When his mind had slipped over the edge of sanity fallen into darkness, Thorn had been there to pull him out. They protected each other.

Now, with little danger and decades of peace before them, their partnership is much more steady. Natural.

Murtagh is afraid that he will not remember how to speak with his voice, they have been communicating with their thoughts for so long.

Thorn laughs at that. _Foolish, Murtagh. _

_It is not so foolish, _Murtagh says, shooting his dragon a look over their small cook fire. _I have not spoken aloud in months. _

A blur of movement is all Murtagh has time to register before one sparkling red claw is pinning him to the ground. He let out a startled yelp.

Thorn peers down at him through slittled red eyes. _Not so quick, Murtagh. You're out of practice. _

Murtagh rolls his eyes. _Let me up, Thorn. _

The dragon presses his face close to his Rider's until all Murtagh can see are two gaping nostrils and glittering red scales. Thorn breathes out a hot gust of air, and Murtagh yelps. _Thorn!_

His dragon growls a laugh and releases him. _You sound like a frightened rabbit. _


End file.
